


Death is Not the End

by Kitsu



Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, No Lube, Series Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:18:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of actions of individuals lead to the incidents described in Saiyuki Gaiden. This is Goujun's take on it all, as he focuses more on the actions of his unruly General, Kenren, and his feelings for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death is Not the End

  
He smirks as he passes me, disregarding all military protocol. It's become too common an occurrence, and I've had enough. I bid him stop, reminding him that I am, in fact, his superior and that he owes me some respect. Respect I know for certain he doesn't have for me – but he could at least pretend for long enough to keep up appearances. He proceeds to give a stiff curtsey and greeting, neither in the least sincere. I can see it in his eyes – that constant burning fire, the uncontrollable _will_ to always reject any authority. The very same will that makes me detest him – and want him.

I very much dislike this feeling – no, not feeling, craving. Every time I catch sight of him, my blood boils and my vision clouds over. I know this burning hunger, recognise it for what it truly is – something I haven't experienced in several long centuries. Desire. A searing, coiling lust clawing its way out through my chest.

I hate him for it. Yet I find myself constantly watching him. Wishing. Dreaming. Longing.

I don't long for _anything_. I am too proud.

Not for anything but him.

Needing to concentrate on something else, I admonish him for drinking on duty, while he simply jokes it away and strolls down the hall like he has no worries in the world.

His scent lingers in the air even minutes after he's gone, a heady mix of cherry blossoms, gun-powder, cigarette smoke, wine and some random woman. I can even smell that Tenpou on him. It all combines into a scent that is innately his, and it makes me dizzy, forcing me to find support against the wall, eyes closed and heaving for air.

_Dammit._ He's going to be the end of me.

I hate him, I tell myself. Over and over again. I hate him.

XXXXX

From the first time I read his record from his time in the Eastern Division, I knew he was going to set off something I wouldn't be able to control. Both he and Tenpou are just too intelligent, too wilful. Nobody will ever be able to make them go against their own ideals – if they are to decide something is amiss, they will work to change it, using any means possible.

Thus, the moment I see them both join that heretical creature under Konzen Douji's protection in starting a riot during the Heavenly Emperor's birthday-celebration, I can feel it starting. The oncoming chaos is creeping closer – time is running out – for all of us. The Heavenly Order is going to change, and he will be part of the driving force behind it. If only I saw a way to stop it – but I can't even see how he will cause it.

As I watch the three walk away, joined by Konzen Douji, I decide. They're dangerous, those four, and they will be the downfall of us all if we're not careful.

XXXXX

He does it yet again, goes against the natural order of things. His motive – I understand it all too well – is his wish to protect something – someone – he perceives as precious, even if it is Nataku, a tainted, heretical being. I can see it – in Kenren's eyes Nataku is just a child, equal to that _animal_ Konzen Douji is in charge of, and that he himself is so fond of. It's his weakness, this need to protect.

So he speaks out against the Emperor and Li Touten, and I can only watch in horror. I know where this is headed, and I try to warn him off – speaking out of turn will certainly result in some form of punishment. Especially since he is obviously angering Li Touten, a man who has gained too much power for anyone's well-being and who is just too happy using that power any way he sees fit – especially in ways that hurt others.

I can only watch as they drag him away, it's out of my hands now – a political matter. Later, later I will see what I can do to help – because, I truly feel a need to help him in any way I can. I should hate him for that. Detest him for making me do things unbecoming of a Dragon King. But I don't.

XXXXX

Having 'disciplined' him, as they put it, they throw him in the Western Division's dungeons – the one place I happen to be in the possession of every key to.

As I walk into the room there is nothing close to remorse or submissiveness to be discerned from his posture. Bloody and beaten, half undressed, chained to the wall – and still there's only the all-too-familiar arrogance, the suggestive comments and that burning gaze boring into me.

The rich smell of his blood nearly drives me up the wall and I bite my lip to keep myself from growling. It's intoxicating – a high so intense I nearly lose myself in it. With clenched fists I walk over to the bars, turning to admonishments and insults yet again. It's the only way I can keep some semblance of control over myself so close to him.

While berating him for being downright stupid, I still admire him for what he did. He stood up for a child with no control over his own destiny, a child whose only reason for existence is to function as a weapon for his 'father' – his creator. A killer doll. A foul, tainted thing in the eyes of most of Heaven – except for in Kenren and his accomplices'. He tells me it's painful – painful to watch that child being unable to _be_ a child. A noble reasoning indeed, but a dangerous one.

As I throw him the set of keys for the chains binding him and the cell door, I want to explain to him how I'm pain too – the pain of seeing him bringing his own downfall about, stepping closer to his end – and mine, I fear – with every word he speaks out against those in power, with every action that draws unnecessary attention too him. Tell him how much it pains me to watch him slowly commit suicide – because that _is_ what he is doing, I've seen it before. Heaven does not like upstarts. Yet I can not. It's not in my ways. Each man has his own path to follow.

Still, I have to do _something._ So I do the only thing I can.

The moment he turns the key in the cell-door's lock, I throw it open, hearing it slam back against the steel bars. I must appear angry, because he takes a tentative step back into the cell. That's all I need.

Something breaks inside me and the rush of anger, pain, hate, lust, hunger and _love_ that surges through me blinds me, drowns me, knocks logic all the way to the back of my mind. I pounce – there is no better word for it – and push him against the back wall of the cell. His whole form stiffens at the impact and I bury my face in the nook between his neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply. The smell of even fresher blood drives me insane, awakens ancient urges, makes me want to hunt, possess, _kill._ Only he can sate it.

Catching his hands in mine, I nail him to the wall. He stiffens even further and when I run my thumbs over the sore skin at his bruised wrists, his breath catches in his throat. I run my tongue along the line of his neck and shoulder, tasting sweat and blood. His blood. So powerful. I hear a soft thud, and raising my head, I see that his eyes have closed and his head has fallen back against the wall. He's scowling, expression set somewhere between surprise and pain, but a slight flush to his face tells of something else mixed into it all, something I hadn't expected. Somehow it calms me, if only slightly – in fact it's barely enough to let me think coherently. I swallow hard and lick my lips, the faint taste of him there nearly enough to inflame my senses again.

Pulling back minimally, I let go of his hands and watch as they fall limply down to his sides. Other than that he remains motionless, even unblinking. I cannot begin to fathom what could be running through his head right now, as the situation we're in is starting to look absurd even to me.

Then it hits me. Pandemonium is coming, and I am powerless to stop it – but here, presented before me, is the only chance I will ever have to get what my heart has been telling me to seek out for ages, even if I've been to dimwitted to realise it.

Grasping his chin, I turn his head toward me. Stroking a thumb over his cut, bleeding lip I finally elicit a reaction from him. His eyelids flutter, and he returns my gaze, steadily, but apprehensively.

"I hate you," I tell him. "I should hate you. You're a constant source of headaches for me. But... I can't. You're too _fucking_ noble to hate." Hearing myself swear, I grimace. Moving closer again, I continue. "Somehow you've made me want you. Crave you. It annoys me."

His eyes goes wide. Shock, I suppose. I've always been a cold bastard toward him, the way he's always been a rebellious brat toward me. Apparently, none of us knows how to behave.

Slowly, his mouth drops open, and he starts stuttering. "You want to fuck me?" he finally asks.

I suppose my actions this far could easily be interpreted as to imply that, and I chuckle. He's got it all wrong.

"No. I want _you_ to fuck _me_ , as you so eloquently stated it. Now. If you're up to it." I eye his bruises and cuts, finally having calmed down enough to properly assess our situation – though my blood is still boiling, seething. The hunger is too strong to quell completely in any other fashion than the one I had just proposed, but if he's too hurt, I may be able to wait. Though it will pain me.

He doesn't even answer. In a flurry of motion befitting a true soldier, he reverses our positions, pushing me against the rough wall. His hands frantically pull and tear at my uniform in his expeditiousness. I allow it without though. I've decided – I don't hate him.

I simply want him.

His hands finally touches my skin, warm and comforting. I know I'm cold-skinned – dragon ancestry tends to result in lower body temperature than what's common, at least in cold surroundings. I'm also aware my skin is rougher than that of other inhabitants of Heaven, almost reptilian to the touch. In the past, there have been cases of potential lovers being repulsed by it, but Kenren doesn't even seem to notice. He's skilled, determined, hands and mouth finding and manipulating all the right places. He strokes, bites, licks and sucks until I melt against him, feeling nothing but his touches, nothing but his warmth against me.

With me barely noticing, he manages to ease us both to the floor, where he strips me of the last few remnants of my clothing. Naked against me, I can feel his hear beating, fast and hard. So fast and hard and strong it nearly manages to chase away that ever-present feeling of impending doom. Something so full of life is rare in Heaven, where crippling boredom is a constant plague. I place my hand over his heart and with closed eyes I count his heartbeats, wanting them to go on forever.

He softly grips my hand, moving it away from his chest. Our fingers entwine and he kisses me. It's a lingering kiss, far more filled with emotion than I expected, and again he drives me to do what would be considered unbecoming for a mighty Dragon King. I claw at his side, urging him onward, wanting him to still this yearning that ravages me. He obliges me, stroking his hand down my chest and stomach to finally wrap around my cock. His hand feels immensely warmer than my own skin, and it's enough to make me writhe and twist. His slow strokes are torture, made to drive me insane, made to reinforce the hunger. My hands now claw wildly at the mud floor, my body surges upwards wanting more. More of Kenren's warmth, more of everything, and he delivers. Soon, all I can sense is a sound like that of the waves of the Western Ocean crashing against the white cliffs of my homeland filling my head. Louder and louder, forceful, until something uncoils in the pit of my stomach and a wave of pure pleasure rips through me, leaving me to fall into soft darkness.

As I come to again, I feel his hand at my hip join, massaging gently. He's waiting patiently, and still feeling the hunger – though dulled – I oblige him. Sitting up, I place a palm against his shoulder and push gently. He catches on quickly and moves to lay down on his back. I seat myself across his thighs, admiring his length as it's resting against his stomach, hard and waiting.

Wiping my own seed from my stomach, I reach for his cock and coat it with it. It's not a substitute for proper lubrication, but it's all there is, and I want him now – pain be damned. I'm a soldier and a proud one, this only constitutes a minor annoyance – if only because I'm saying so.

Lifting my hips, I move to place him against my entrance, carefully lowering myself until I can feel him starting to fill me up. It burns, forcing me to close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, in and out. The pain eventually subsides, dull now, aching more than stinging. I move, feeling him slide against my insides, stretching me, filling me up completely. Heaven, how I've missed this feeling. Hands placed on his chest for support, I move slowly, hips moving with deliberate consideration, forcing his surrender under me. His hands grip desperately at my sides, but I won't yield. Soon, my name is falling from his lips as a constant mantra, only punctuated by vulgarities and praise for my pale skin, my hair, my eyes. It eggs me on, drives me mad, drives me toward a second climax, until I'm balancing precariously on the edge, the slightest touch most likely enough to tip me off the precipice into sweet welcome oblivion yet again.

Maybe he senses it, maybe not, but regardless his hand moves from my hip to wrap around my cock again, hard, fast strokes all I needed. Rapture comes slower this time, burning slowly along my nerve-paths instead of wrenching my pleasure from me. It leaves me able to feel him follow me over the edge, arching up as he comes inside me, filling me up. He moans my name, drawn out and sensual, making me smile softly.

Exhausted, I fall forward to rest against his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat again, if only for a moment – a moment I wish would extend forever. I count the beats, but as the seconds pass, I realise time won't stop for us. I slowly start to get up, knowing full well I will have to be back in my office before the hour ends.

His hand stops me, grasping my wrist gentle but forcefully. He wants to speak, I can tell, but I'm not sure I want to listen. I turn away from him, but even so I indulge him.

"Talk, if that is what you want." I will not look at him as he does though – it will break me, I'm certain.

"Goujun. Where does this leave us?" There's no hesitation in his voice. That, at least, I respect about him. He's honest and direct.

"It leaves us nowhere. Forget this ever happened." It breaks my heart to utter the words, but it's for the best. "A storm is brewing, and I fear we'll both be in the middle of it. I'm sure you can feel it approaching too. Take this as a warning, Kenren – do whatever you feel is necessary, at any cost, but do it with pride." Deciding to allow myself a sentimental moment, I feel that I need to add something. “If we are to ever find ourself as opponents, Kenren, let the survivor remember this moment fondly.”

I get to my feet and dress, still without looking at him, and make to leave. I _know_ will remember what just happened for as long as I continue to exist, but my duty will always come before foolish matters of the heart.

Still – I love him. And I'm starting to fear _that_ is what will cause my end.

XXXXX

The time has come. Kenren – and the three others – are openly confronting Li Touten, incurring his wrath. Goku – no, Seiten Taisei – has killed several of his men and only Kanzeon Bosatsu was able to subdue him. Li Touten's order is still ringing shrill in my ears – 'Kill them all! – as I shout for them to stop. Please, dear Heaven, _stop_.

I'm not heard. Tenpou draws his sword on me and I'm forced to defend myself, but in my anger and pain I lack focus and it slows me down. The tip of his sword soon burns cold against my neck, and I freeze. The battle ends there, and group of four retreats with me as a handy hostage.

XXXXX

Sitting all tied up in the corner of some barracks, I listen to them make plans. I listen because Kenren will barely look at me. I taunt them, telling them that they have now become my enemies and the enemies of all of Heaven. I argue, plead, all to get his attention, but in the end the one most willing to talk is Konzen Douji. He talks and talks, and doesn't notice the unconscious Seiten Taisei slowly coming to life behind his back. I yell out a warning instinctively, willing to fight the rampaging heretic if necessary, if Konzen would only untie me. Yet is Konzen himself that stops him – in a way I would never have imagined impossible. While Li Touten's armies are gathering outside, Konzen calms the heretical being like one would a wild animal, with soft words and soft touches, lovingly. Now I can see how anyone would follow him to the end of the world – I probably would too if I were free to choose my own path. However, I am not, the road for a Dragon King is set out for them from even before they're born. Mine lies with the military and the duties that imposes on me. To shirk them would be to kill off a part of my own being. I am not strong enough for that. They will follow their ideals freely, while I'm completely bound by my duty. It's a sad fact, but one I must accept, however much it saddens me.

After Seiten Taisei has calmed down, I am left alone in my corner until they decide to make their move. As the army outside attacks, we sneak away, through old, forgotten tunnels leading to the heart of the Emperor's palace. There, Kenren finally acknowledges my presence, if only to bid me farewell. Even though I knew all along this moment was coming, it hurts. It's hurts as if my heart is shattering into a thousand icy shards. I stiffen up and in an effort to at least make it a dignified farewell, I bid Kenren and Tenpou both to report properly, one last time. As they salute me, resigning their commissions in unison, I wish I could bid them a safe journey, but not even that my warrior's code will allow me.

XXXXX

If I ever see him again, it may very well be the death of one of us.

XXXXX

I find him in a stinking cellar full of dead, dismembered abominations. Even he himself is more dead than alive, as he rests against a wall, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He still greets me in his usually cocky manner, but it lacks something – lacks _life._

In the abominations surrounding him lies part of the true reasoning behind their rebellion, and I desperately try to convince him to surrender – I _order_ him to surrender so he can to live on. However, I can already tell that the man sitting in front of me is a dead man still breathing. There is no will to live on here in Heaven in him, only the will to – well, as the people down below would say – 'go out in a blaze of glory'. He's a soldier wanting a soldier's death – and I will give him that, if nothing more.

We move in unison, fast, violently and somehow, almost miraculously, he manages to catch me in the sight of his gun at just the moment I bring down my sword to take his head off. I freeze, and he laughs. It's a dead, cold laugh, not one I want to hear from him. He tells me I'm lucky he's out of bullets, and I take that as a signal to raise my sword again, to end him. My senses dulled by the pounding ache in my heart and head, I fail to notice the thing moving behind me until it nearly rips my head off.

Kenren saves me. I don't know why. In a last effort to move, he kicks my feet from under me, and unbalanced and confused I fall down a shaft in the floor, barely managing to grab hold of a piece of wire to stop myself from dropping straight down into oblivion. Forgetting for a moment that we're supposed to be enemies now I call for him, begging for him to come too, to join me, to find a way out of here together.

"Sorry," he answers, even more strained than a moment earlier, and I realise all hope is gone. He's hurt, most likely fatally. He laughs it away as he always does, blaming his fear of height instead, but the lie pierces straight to my heart.

I've lost him.

In a haze of sorrow and grief I can hear him order the abomination that if it is to kill him, it is to devour every piece of flesh and bone of his until there is nothing left, so that he can re-enter the cycle of death and rebirth and be reborn in the world of humans.

Through the furious roar of the beast, I hear his last word.

'Later'.

My sword slips from my hand, clattering to the floor at the bottom of the shaft. It rings shrill in the dead silence left in the wake of the abomination's retreat. As a last honour to a soldier that died following his own ideals, I raise my hand to my brow in a final salute.

We'll meet again. Later.

XXXXX

It seems 'later' may come sooner than I expected. Unfortunately, Kenren's last effort to save me wasn't enough – I fell trying to escape the room where he died, becoming fatally wounded myself. I still live, but it's not life. Not for a once proud Dragon King. I find myself wishing my impending end welcome, as long as I live long enough that I may see to it that those four are never forgotten, that their fate never be buried under layers of bureaucratic nonsense. Their legacy _will_ live on.

And then, then I will join him again – in some form or another – under the vast skies of the world below. Where I will be free to choose my own destiny, unfettered by an Order which only brings suffering. The never-ending cycle of rebirths within the human realm so feared by many seems far more inviting than life immortal among bickering, scheming politicians and courtiers. Maybe I will even be reborn as a dragon, a true one, free to roam the skies. I can only hope.

I so wish to see the skies, I'm so tired of counting the cracks in the roofing of this involuntary prison of mine. I want to feel the wind on my face, to smell the cherry-blossoms in Spring, see them flutter past as they fall from the branches.

I want to see _him_ again, to see them all. I will find them – even if it takes me five hundred years.

xxxFINxxx   


 


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